


Pencil on Paper

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, mfmm secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: A trip to a diner offers an outsider an inside glimpse of the lady detective and her inspector.





	Pencil on Paper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kid_n_the_hall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kid_n_the_hall/gifts).



> Happy holidays to you Kid_n_the_Hall!
> 
> from Your Secret Santa

The diner was empty but for her. It often was at this hour. The only customers she was likely to see were the men from the station across the street. In fact, the only reason they stayed open this late was to serve them. The owner felt it was good business to keep the local police force happy and it didn’t cost him much to keep one waitress on duty. It was strictly tea and baked goods on offer at this hour, though she’d been known to break the rules and do a little fry up for her favorite customers on occasion.

Allie didn’t mind when her turn came to work the shift. Once the dinner rush was over, it was even enjoyable. With five brothers and sisters at home it was one of the few times and places she found peace and quiet. She moved the stool from the corner by the register up to the counter and pulled her notebook and pencil from her apron pocket.

She did a quick sketch of the coffee pot. Just for practice. It was all just for practice. And fun. A way to pass the hours. She’d always dreamed of studying and becoming a famous artist and she hadn’t completely abandoned that dream, but the part about running off to Paris? That had fallen to the realities of life.

She still remembered sitting at her Uncle’s feet as he told her of the cafés in Paris after the war. The artists he’d met. Painters and writers, singers and musicians. She’d imagined herself among them.

But that was just a childish dream that had faded as she got older. How on earth would she get to France? She could never come up with enough money and she didn’t even speak the language. Besides, she loved her home and staying put didn’t mean an end to her dream. There were art schools in Australia too. Since she’d started working she’d put aside a little from her earnings whenever she could. She hoped to have enough in about two more years to enroll.

She finished her drawing and took a critical look. It looked like a coffee pot.

She preferred drawing people, their faces and changing expressions, but since the place was empty at the moment that wasn’t an option. She flipped through her notebook to a sketch she’d begun earlier in the day. She could fill in parts of it without the model being present. She was rather proud of this effort. He wasn’t a particularly difficult subject but she thought she’d captured his open and eager countenance rather well.

She was so caught up in her, not entirely objective, appraisal of her work that she didn’t hear the door open.

“That’s remarkable!”

Allie looked up, startled. The most beautiful and elegant woman she’d ever seen stood across the counter peering down at the drawing.

“May I take a closer look?” The woman asked, her brilliant blue eyes hopeful. Blindly, Allie turned the notebook around so the woman could see the drawing upright.

“Remarkable!” She said, again. “You’ve really captured him!”

“Do you think so?”

“Oh yes! It looks just like him!”

“Do you know Constable Collins?”

“Quite well, as a matter of fact,” she said, smiling brightly and extending her hand. “You’re very talented. What’s your name?”

“Allie.”

“A pleasure to meet you Allie. I’m Phryne.”

Allie shook the outstretched hand. The woman’s skin was soft and smooth. Her ruby red lips curved into a dazzling smile. Her jet black hair accentuated impossibly high cheekbones. Even in the harsh light of the diner her skin had a lovely porcelain quality. She seemed surrounded by a cloud of a most intoxicating fragrance and Allie began to wonder if she was even real. They didn’t see women like this in the diner. Her clothes were obviously expensive and her hat! Her hat was glorious and likely worth more than Allie made in a month.

“Nice to meet you too,” Allie said, finally remembering herself. “Can I get you anything?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely. I’m meeting someone but it looks like I’m a bit early,” she said, checking her watch and scrunching her nose up in irritation. “I’ve never been terribly patient.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, as though imparting a secret.

“I’ll make a fresh pot for you. It’ll just take a minute,” Allie said. She reached to collect the notebook but the woman placed her hand on it to stop her.

“Would you mind terribly if I looked at this while I wait? I’d love to see more of your work.”

“Really?” Allie said, flattered that a woman such as this would find anything she did interesting enough to want to see more.

“Yes. Really.” The blue eyes sparkled with amusement and Allie felt her heart beat faster, like it did whenever her beau Lucas was near. She took her hand off the notebook and nodded her permission.

When she returned with the tea the woman was studying one of her drawings closely.

“He’s one of my favorites,” Allie said, as she poured. The woman looked up with a smirk and cocked an eyebrow.

“You have excellent taste.”

“To draw, I mean,” Allie blushed. “His face is all angles and planes. At first it seemed a simple task but he’s—surprisingly expressive. Took me ages before I thought I’d got it right. Even now, I’m not sure.”

“Oh, you have,” Phryne said, her voice soft and a bit wistful. “You really have and I can imagine it was difficult. He can be somewhat inscrutable.”

Of course, Allie thought. If this woman was close to Constable Collins, chances were good she’d met his boss as well.

“Do you sell your work anywhere?” she asked.

“You mean my drawings? Oh, no. It’s just some doodling I do in my spare time.”

“Well, if these are your doodles I’d be very interested to see what you consider a finished product.”

"Maybe you will someday. I hope to go to school, once I raise enough money. After that, who knows? Maybe my work will hang in a gallery someday,” Allie said, laughing at herself.

“I’ve no doubt.”

The door chimed and Allie looked up to see the subject of the drawing sweep into the diner bringing an air of anticipation with him. He snatched the hat from his head, his eyes quickly falling on the woman at the counter. He didn’t smile. He didn’t so much as twitch and yet somehow his entire face lit up. If anyone had asked, Allie would have sworn he’d begun to glow.

The woman, Phryne, swiveled on her stool, an all encompassing smile overtaking her features and though she didn’t stand, she seemed to float up a little, become taller somehow. “Jack,” she whispered, so low and quiet it was more a breath than a word.

He crossed the room swiftly and was at her side in an instant. He bent to press a greeting kiss to her cheek. Her eyes closed and her hand came up to briefly light upon his chest before he pulled away again, leaving it hovering in the space he’d just vacated. She let it drop to her lap.

“You’re here” he said, sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I wrote that I was coming.”

“Yes, but your ship doesn’t dock for two more days.”

“I hijacked a plane in Perth.”

“Not literally?”

“I simply convinced the pilot that a trip to Melbourne would be financially advantageous,” she said with a casual wave of her hand.

Finally he smiled. A mirror image to the one she’d held since he walked through the door. He took a seat on the stool beside her and they sat in stunned silence for a minute, thier eyes drinking each other in.

Allie snatched up her notebook and took a step back, fading into the background. It was a skill every good server learned. She’d await a signal from them before approaching to take an order.

It always felt uncomfortably voyeuristic to watch couples in love and she usually did her best to give them some privacy but she had a hard time taking her eyes off of these two. If she thought the woman beautiful on her own, as a couple these two were breathtakingly stunning.

Inspector Robinson had been coming into the diner as long as she’d worked there. He was kind, and friendly enough, though not the type one become terribly chummy with. She’d always thought him handsome, in a severe sort of way, but as she’d tried to capture him on paper he’d grown on her. He was far more attractive than she’d first realized. His appeal more nuanced. His face, while at first appearing to be to be quite hard and fixed was actually very changeable. A minor twitch of the lips could alter all of his features in an instant and his eyes were wonderfully expressive.

Right now they were trained on the woman with an intensity that would reduce most others to ash. He seemed to radiate with energy. Allie found it oddly stirring.

The couple maintained a respectable distance from each other but somehow the whole scene felt incredibly intimate.

“I missed you, Jack,” Phryne said, sliding her hand along the counter toward his. He met her half way, his eyes dropping to where their fingers were tangling together.

“You’ve still got it on,” he said, sounding pleased and slightly stunned.

“Of course,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Right where you left it. Why are you surprised?”

“It’s not exactly your style, Miss Fisher,” he smiled. He disentangled their fingers, twisting her hand in his until his thumb could caress the little band.

Allie noticed it looked like nothing more than a couple of wires twisted together and looped around her middle finger. The name he’d used. Miss Fisher. Phryne Fisher. It rang a bell but Allie couldn’t think where she might have heard it.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” she said, “but I couldn’t seem to take it off. After all, there was a ceremony and everything.”

“A crazy man at a party waved a stick over our heads,” he said, wryly.

“That was a staff. Which, along with Bertie himself, was endowed with mystical powers by a shaman in the high Himalayas,” she said in mock outrage, her eyes wide and teasing.

“So he mentioned. At least five or six times,” he replied, his eyes alight with mischief at the memory. He was still toying with the ring on her finger. “You have some interesting friends, Phryne, but I doubt very much anyone would acknowledge the man’s authority on the matter.”

“Then it’s a good thing no one’s opinion is being sought,” she said, weaving her fingers through his again and smiling into his eyes, “other than ours. And I don’t remember Bertie’s lack of authority bothering you much that night.”

“It doesn’t bother me now,” he said, his eyes darkening. His already deep and rich voice dropped lower and the shiver that ran up Miss Fisher’s spine was almost visible.

“You know. Between his usual tendency toward the absurd, and the absinthe, Bertie was especially incoherent that night. I’m not sure I understood half of his gibberish. I did hear you, though,” she said.

“And do you still remember?”

“Every word.”

“Good. Because I meant it. Every word.”

Her smile seemed to light her from within. Their bodies angled toward one another, moving closer as if drawn by an invisible string. He swallowed hard and pulled away, sitting back. She made a sound, like a moaning complaint. It caused a strange, tinglingly sensation in the pit of Allie’s stomach.

“Why are you on duty tonight?” She whinged, crossing her arms and sulking like a spoiled schoolgirl.

“You came home early,” he said, smiling indulgently.

“Right,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “What about tomorrow? Do I get you to myself then?”

He shook his head.

“Couldn’t you ask for the day off?”

“After my recent leave I’m hardly in a position to do that. I did call in a few favors so that I could meet your ship—in two days time,” he said.

Her head bobbled back and forth and she rolled her eyes at his minor scolding.

“So, how long do I have you now?” She asked.

“Fifteen—maybe twenty minutes?”

“Hmmm. Not a lot, but we’ve made do with less.”

She looked around the cafe with a surveying eye. He snorted out a laugh, his lips curving into a devilish smirk, before twisting his face into a stern expression.

“Time enough for a cup of tea, Miss Fisher,” he said, firmly. She pouted prettily but couldn’t hide the fact that his initial reaction had delighted her.

“Have it your way,” she shrugged, “but don’t pretend tea is all you want.” She turned to catch Allie’s eye. “Allie dear, would you please bring another cup for the inspector? And a slice of that delicious looking apple pie.”

“Of course,” Allie replied, hurrying to set the order in front of him.

“Thank you. How are you tonight, Allie?” He said, acknowledging her for the first time.

“Just fine, sir,” she said.

“Been busy?”

“Earlier,” she said. “Pretty quiet now. As you can see.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, his head swiveling back to his companion.

“Let me know if I can get you anything else,” Allie said, making a quick exit. She didn’t want to take up any more of their precious time together.

Allie found a spot at the far end of the counter where she could keep an eye on them should they need anything. She pulled out her notebook and began a new sketch. A larger scene than the intimate portraits she usually did. In this one she included not just her two subjects but the diner itself.

She imagined the scene would look very interesting to anyone passing on the street. The light from the windows spilling into the dark night. The two customers at the counter, sitting side by side, their heads bent toward one another. The aura around them seemed to give the diner a special shine tonight. She wondered if she’d be able to capture it with just pencil and paper.

Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson were lost in conversation. Allie had no idea how long they’d been apart but each of them seemed to have an endless amount of stories to share with the other. The usually staid inspector was almost shockingly animated tonight as he listened to her tales or told one of his own. Allie checked with them once to make sure they didn’t need anything more but otherwise kept an eye on them from a distance so as not to intrude.

A few minutes past his promised twenty, the inspector stood and pulled on his coat. Miss Fisher stood too, stepping close to him to straighten his tie and brush down his lapels.

Allie would’ve liked more time to work on her drawing but in some ways the wispy, half finished look of it was appealing. It had an ethereal quality that seemed to fit with the event it was depicting.

The inspector took hold of Miss Fisher’s hand.

"You have a birthday coming up. Would you allow me to replace this with something more to your taste?"

"Well, I've grown rather fond of it, but I'm sure I'll love anything you pick out just as much," she said.

"Good." He turned to go. 

A second later he turned back, grabbing her around the waist and drawing her in for a searing kiss. Time seemed to stand still until, finally, he pulled away, his shoulders rising and falling with his heaving breath.

“Welcome home, Miss Fisher,” he said.

He set his hat on his head, dropped some coins on the table and strode confidently from the diner.

Miss Fisher looked unsteady on her feet. She wobbled and sort of plopped back down onto the stool behind her, dazed and happy. Allie gave her a minute to compose herself before approaching.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No thank you, Allie. Just the check,” Miss Fisher smiled. She pulled a compact and lipstick from her purse and carefully reapplied the red stain to her lips.

While she was occupied with that task, Allie slipped the check onto the countertop. Underneath, facing down, she put the sketch of the inspector. The one Miss Fisher had admired when she arrived. Allie collected the empty plates and cups and retreated hastily to the back room, blushing furiously. She stood in the kitchen where she could watch through the chef’s window without being seen.

Miss Fisher turned the paper over and gasped in delight when she realized what it was. She studied it carefully and drew her index finger along the page as if caressing the outlines of his face. She looked a little emotionally overcome.

Allie felt a rush of heat spread through her. She’d never imagined anyone having such a powerful reaction to something she’d drawn. It made her feel proud and incredibly happy.

Miss Fisher looked at the drawing for a long minute before turning her head in search of Allie, but Allie darted back to remain hidden. It was enough to have witnessed the reaction to her work. She didn’t think she could face Miss Fisher and actually hear any praise or thanks. She wouldn’t know how to respond.

Miss Fisher seemed to understand Allie’s reticence and it wasn’t long before the bell chimed to say she had gone. On the counter was enough money to cover the bill and more. Quite a lot more. Allie thought there’d been some mistake and was about to chase after Miss Fisher. Then she saw the card.

On the front it read The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. On the back, in an elegant cursive was a handwritten note.

 

> _Thank you for your generous gift. Please accept mine to you—for your education (or however you wish to use it). I expect I’ll hear great things of you in the future. P. Fisher_

After putting the proper amount in the till, Allie tucked Miss Fisher’s generous gift and the little card into a special pocket in the side of her handbag. She’d use a little of the money to buy some new pencils and maybe a proper sketch pad. The rest would go into her school fund.

The door chimed and two customers came in from the dark. A couple of beat officers. They were regulars and chatted amiably with Allie as she got their orders ready. Once they’d gone she checked the clock. Two hours to close. She wiped down the counter, pulled her notebook from the pocket of her apron and began a new sketch. This one from memory, of a beautiful lady in a glorious hat.


End file.
